Hockey
by Miss Chelle
Summary: Hockey was the only thing that made Matt feel recognized, made him feel.....important. Crap summary. A Matt X Ivan friendship fic with no historical accuracy in the least.
1. Chapter 1

(_Because I love hockey, and I love Russia, and I love Canada. Is this historically accurate in any way shape or form? Absolutely not. Why is it not in my drabbles? Because I'm going somewhere with this. Hopefully.)_

Hockey

Almost every week since Matthew grew up and became a country, he had gone over Russia's house to play hockey.

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It had started when he noticed Ivan skating on a frozen pond, hockey stick in hand. It dazzled him, the way he glided, almost flew, over the ice. The force behind a slapshot. How powerful Russia looked! Timidly, not wanting to get caught, he creeped closer, trying to get a better look. Matt had frozen ponds all over his country! Maybe Russia could teach……No. Canada would never ask Ivan for anything like that, anything at all! He was scared to be in the same room with the larger counrty, even with America and England around. This game, whatever it was, seemed too violent for Matt, anyway. Even though he was an expert skater, that stick now looked too unmanageable, and that black thing too much to keep up with. No, this obviously wasn't the game for Canada.

"_You wish to play?"_

Russia's invitation shocked Canada. He was about to deny profusely, to apologize for watching him practice, to leave blushing and stuttering. But then, something odd happened. Canada saw Russia's clear smile, not a trace of the creepiness that he usually saw. Ivan was serious. He had certainly wanted to play, that was for sure. Well, why not learn to play? What did he have to lose?

"_Y-yes. Will you teach me?"_

And that was it. From that day on, Canada had gone over top Russia's house to play. No matter what was going on, any sort of war or emergency, Russia had always expected Canada at the same time, same place. Through the Cold war, when Canada wasn't allied with Russia, when they were enemies, they still played their weekly game. And it was odd, because outside of their weekly game, they barely talked. Russia rarely acknowledged Canada's existence. But it was okay. Canada knew that Russia wasn't looking for a friend, or an ally in him. Just someone to play against. Not a friend, per se, more like an opponent. And that was enough for Canada.

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He was getting ready to leave, his sports bag packed to the brim with hockey pads and other such things. It just so happened that America, who was headed to Canada's house for whatever reason, saw him go.

"Matt! Hey, Matty, wait up!"

Canada flinched. This wasn't supposed to happen. And how many time had he told Alfred not to call him "Matty"?!

"Hi, Al."

"Where are you going? What's in the bag?"

"N-nothing…nowhere…"

"Here, lemme see."

Matt backed up a couple of steps, to get out of reach from his elder brother's grabbing hands. This was really not supposed to happen!! Surely Russia didn't want anyone else to know about this!

"No! leave me alone, Al!"

Canada attempted to run away, but with his bear, and the bulky sports bag emblazoned with a red maple leaf, America needed only to grab his collar to stop his feeble escape attempt.

"Either you tell me what's up, Canada, or I hand you over to France in your boxers."

"You would not do that to your own brother, Alfred!!"

America pulled out his cell phone, and scrolled through his contact list deliberately slow, smirking widely.

"Okay, okay!! Fine. I'll tell you…."

"Awesome." He stashed his cell phone on his pocket, and pulled out a cheeseburger from God knows where. Alfred took a huge bite, and faced Canada. "So? Wass de big zeecret?"

"I was going….Uhh…."

Canada was thinking on the spot, trying to think up a good enough lie to throw America off his track. He always left early for his game, but America might make him late. Matt shuddered to think what Russia would do if he was late, or worse, not show up at all.

"I'm, umm…."

"Uhh, umm, err, whatever! Just tell me, Matt! Come on, it can't be that bad, can it?"

Matt breathed a deep sigh. Might as well just tell America so he could laugh his head off and Canada could go.

"I'm going to Russia's house. We're going to play hockey…."

"Hockey? What's that?"

"It's a game you play on ice. Ivan taught me it a while ago. Can I go now?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure, go on."

"Thank God."

America let Canada go, and he scurried off, leaving his older brother deep in thought, a rare occurrence. Matthew grit his teeth as he made his way to Russia's house. Oh, he hoped that this wouldn't cause any trouble…..

(_Yep, definitely going somewhere with this. Review, if you please, and I'll update this faster. Ciao~!)_


	2. Chapter 2

_(Yay for fans that encourage me. You guys are great. Oh, and excuse the lack of actual hockey action. I fail at the job of sports announcer, even when I'm making the game up.)_

Hockey

Chapter two

Matt got to Russia's house on time, even with the interference of his older brother. He hoped that America knowing would pose no threat to his weekly games. But the worry was gradually fading from his mind. As he suited up for the game, his mind seemed to fill with a buzz of adrenaline, anticipating the high energy game ahead of him. Finally, he fit the helmet over his head, smacked a gloved hand against it, and skated out onto the ice.

There was Russia, suited up in his hockey gear as well, alone on the ice. Canada noticed, as he always does, that Russia did not have a helmet on. He never played with one on. Matt had never bothered to ask why, but it always intrigued him. Was Ivan that strong?

"You are a late, no?" Ivan's voice echoed around the arena, not sounding madd or accusing, only a little amused.

"Just a bit, eh. America held me up."

Russia chuckled a bit at the mention of Alfred. Ever since the Cold War, he seemed to find America endlessly amusing. Ivan started to skate back and forth without a change of expression in his ever smiling face. It almost seemed as if his feet were moving of their own accord.

"That brother of yours. He is quite a handful, da?"

Ivan and Matt always had a little chat before and after their one on one games, but Matt was feeling irked that here, at his game, his escape, his sanctuary, they were talking about Alfred. It's always about Alfred!! Well, not here, and not now.

"Let's just play." Canada growled, and lowered his head, ready for the game. Russia's smile faltered a little. Matt, growling? He never was aggressive. Not even in the game. Tenacious and not willing to give up, maybe, but aggressive? Never! Ivan smiled widely once again, skating up to center ice, as Matt did the same.

Ivan tossed the puck slightly in the air, and the two tensed. The puck spun in the air, and time seemed to still. Then, it hit the ice, and it was on!

Matt stole it away at once, and was off, skating toward his opponent's goal. This was all that mattered now. This game, and this moment. This is what he lived for, the thrill of a break away, the rushing anticipation of the game, and the sweet taste of victory when he scored. Which was about to be right---

And a body check from Ivan sent the smaller nation sprawling on the ice sideways! That's what Matt got for not paying attention to what was around him. Ivan chuckled, and stole away with the puck. Matt grimaced as he got up. He was thankful the these games were always only one on one, for he didn't think he could focus on so many players, since he didn't play with his glasses on. He left them on his pet bear, which was currently sitting out in the stands, dosing.

Matt remembered the last game he ever played with his glasses. It was about two months ago, and Matt was in the lead. The games were always a cat and mouse games between the two. Matt was speedy where Ivan was strong. Matt would steal the puck away, and Ivan would smash him into the wall. That's always how it went down. This particular day, Matt was on a roll, and he was winning 4-1. Canada was feeling pretty confident as he weaved around Russia, almost in a teasing manner. Russia, not one to take this sort of thing, slammed his shoulder into the back of the smaller nation, and sent him flying toward the wall. His head smacked against the wall, and he dropped to the ground like a sack of Germany's potatoes. Russia was already some ways away, but by a sheer stroke of luck, looked back, and saw the bright red blood. Ivan dropped his stick in shock, and raced over to where Matt was lying on the ice, sobbing his poor little Canadian heart out. The glass was embedded in his face, but none was in his actual eyes, so the wound was only superficial. Russia got all the glass out, and kind of patched him up, then Canada ran out of there as fast as he had ever run in his life. Still in his hockey pads and all, he ran straight to Big Brother France. France held him, comforting him (feeling him up), and from then on, Matt developed an unnatural fear of his very own glasses.

Canada got snapped out of his flashback-memory state by a loud angry buzzer. Apparently, while he was reminiscing, Russia had scored a goal. That's what Matt got for not paying attention! He skated off, determined not to slip off into his head again.

"Pay attention, little one!"

"Yeah, yeah…."

But Matt couldn't help it. Even as he stole the puck away for the umpteenth time, his mind was wandering to the last time Russia wore his scarf to one of their weekly hockey games.

It was quite a bit further in the past then Canada's glasses incident. Like, a year or something ago. Matt was well into the rhythm of their games. He spent most of the game chasing Russia's back, desperately waiting for an opening to take the puck away for his own. This particular game, Matt was hardcore losing. It was seriously a bad game, and Canada was already geared up for the disappointment of losing. But, ah, a chance! Russia was skating along, fast as a Russian Rocket, and his long white scarf was streaming out behind him like some sort of cape. Canada saw his chance, and did something crazy. He reached out, grabbed the scarf, and yanked with all of his maple syrup-eating strength. Russia's skates flew out from under him and he hit the ice. A deafening silence echoed through the arena. The puck slid off in some direction, unnoticed. Canada dropped the scarf that he didn't realize he was still holding, and it fluttered slowly to the ice.

"R-ru-Russia? Are you okay?"

Once again, silence. Russia's faced was screwed up in pain, and blood was seeping out from under his head. Matt gasped aloud, and slapped Ivan's face slightly, trying to get him to get up. Matt felt tears prickle at his eyes. He didn't mean to hurt Russia, only….stop him from scoring. Suddenly, Ivan's eyes flew open, and he got up. He felt the back of his head, saw the blood, and laughed lightly. Matt's eyes widened in shock.

"Just a scratch, then. You surprised me! One would think that you wouldn't resort to such violence, da?"

"….j-just a scratch? You aren't h-hurt, eh?"

"When you've lived as long as I, you learn to deal with minor injuries like this, little one. But I don't think we should continue our game. The blood, you see, it isn't safe."

And once again, Ivan had scored while Matt was off in la-la-land. Canada sighed aloud and took off his helmet. Russia skated up to him.

"Something wrong, little one?"

" ……."

"You're brother, da?"

"I don't want him to ruin this like he ruins everything else for me, eh! I bet you'll start playing with him instead of me. He's always better than I am."

Canada skated off toward the locker rooms dejectedly, his head and spirits down, dragging his stick after him. Russia's smile faded a bit, and he sneaked up behind Canada, and gave him a huge bear hug from behind, not minding the fact that the younger man was drenched in sweat.

"No one will replace you, little Matthew. Do not worry, da?"

Matt's jaw dropped and he turned beet red. Physical contact?? Russia called him Matthew?!??!

"U-uuh…"

Russia laughed, a deep sound that Canada felt through the several layers of clothing and protective padding that both of the men wore.

"I am sorry. Many people tell me that I am too…..what is word? Ahh, affectionate, da?"

Ivan let the younger man go, and he scrambled away, face still aflame, and left, not bothering to change, shower, or any of that. All he grabbed before he left was his bear, and he left his Canadian pride!sports bag. Russia chuckled again, and shook his head at the frantic, nervous nation. Then he skated lazily over around the arena, whistling a tune that was oddly similar to "O, Canada".

(_For cereal, you guys have no idea how easy it is to write creepster Russia. And this chapter was just to display those two injuries that have been dancing around in my head since I had this idea. Well, I hoped you liked it. Review lots, and I'll add Alfred into the picture and he'll make a right mess of everything. Ciao~!)_


	3. Chapter 3

_(I'm sorry for making you guys wait. My imagination fails!)_

Hockey

Chapter Three

Matt was nervous. Now, Matt's very existence was basically made up of two modes, Relaxed and Nervous. Most time, he was relaxed. The only times he was nervous was when he was getting chased, when somebody forgot his name, when he met new people, in the dark, by himself, anywhere that isn't his home, without his bear…Well, most times he was nervous. But today, he had good reason to be! It was the very next day after his disastrous game with Russia. Disastrous in his mind, that is. Canada always seemed to make a big deal out of practically nothing. But, all the same, he was cowering in his seat, trying hard not to be noticed. Which was totally unnecessary, since he was Canada, and he could go unnoticed in a bright red leotard.

Well, while Canada was busy cowering, France sneaked up behind up him. It wasn't that hard for Francis to be sneaky and silent, since he was a certified creepster, and frankly, he was used to it.

"Mon Cheri!" France exclaimed, laying a gentle hand on Canada's shoulder. Canada, as a reply, shrieked girlishly and jumped a good foot out of his chair. France stared at the trembling young nation questioningly. This was new.

"What is the matter, Matthew?"

"M-m-matter? Why do you th-think anything's the m-matter?" Matt was trying, failing really, at trying to cover up his over reaction.

"Mon Cheri, it is not wise to try to lie to anyone that raised you. I know you better then the back of my fine, well-manicured hands."

"Y-yeah….you're right, big brother." Matt relaxed considerably, leaning heavily against the back of his chair. The meeting was over, and he hadn't even realized it.

"So?" France started playing with Canada's golden locks, so much like his own. This was normal for the both of them. Canada was used to his amorous older brother.

"……It's nothing, France." Canada had already told his little secret to America. He didn't want any more Nations to know.

France made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. "Keeping secrets, are we?"

"Not really a secret….I just don't want anyone to know."

"That's what a secret is, my dear."

Canada frowned at the condescending tone in France's voice. Sure, he was the younger brother, but he wasn't a kid anymore. He stood up, and looked at Francis with ice in his eyes.

"Fine. Then yes, I'm keeping a secret from you. Deal." Matthew turned his back to his older brother and walked off, fed up with being forgotten half the time, and being treated like a child when somebody did talk to him.

"Matthew? Mon Cheri??"

But Canada ignored his older brother and walked, no stomped, over to the exit. He wanted some pancakes, dammit! With tons and tons of maple syrup!! More maple syrup than a person, nation or not, should be allowed to consume in one sitting! Enough gooey, gooey syrup to get a full grown African elephant on a sugar high. Tonight, Matthew was going to practically drown himself in maple syrup. And he's gonna love it!!

Lost in his thoughts of syrup madness, Canada missed his other older brother, America, waving at him. In fact, it seemed to Alfred that Matt was straight up ignoring him. But that was preposterous. This is Matty here! People ignore him, not the other way around. So, America jogged up to his little brother, startled by the look of intensity on his young face.

"Hey, Matty! You okay?"

"Don't call me Matty." America was the perfect person to test out Canada's new-found confidence.

"You love being called Matty! I call you that all the time!!--" "I hate it" "--Remember, when we were little, and you used to get so scared by such stupid things like thunder and--" "Are you listening?" "--lightning and bugs and the dark--" "And scary movies?" "--and stuff like that, but I would always come and save you--" "You would be more frightened then me!" "--cause I'm the Hero! And Heroes don't ever let the little people like you down!" "Do you just write out a new version of our childhood in your spare time?" " Oh, and remember I always used to drive France and England away--" "You cried more than I did when ever big brother England left!!" "--cause they were bullying you way, way, too much, and then I would always have to save you--" "You are ridiculous…" "-- and…."

Canada rolled his eyes skyward, and left his brother blabbing on and on about things that never happened. He had some pancakes to make.

Just as he was about to step out of the door and go back to his own place, a voice that didn't belong to either of his elder brothers called to him.

"Hello, Matthew"

He turned around, annoyed by the interruption, only to meet the gaze of a smiling, waving Russia. All the confidence, and good screw-you-france-and-america feelings that had been giving Canada a great new self-assured attitude went straight out the window. They were replaced by very familiar feeling of nervousness, fear, anxiety, fear, apprehension, fear, fear, and a very, very scary Russia-is-going-to-kill-me feeling. He bolted out of the room like a bat out of hell. In fact, he ran all the way to his house, which was totally unnecessary and did nothing but tire Matt out, and he forgot all of his plans about giving himself a syrup overload.

What he actually did when he got to his house was curl up in a ball under his sheets with the red maple leaves on them, a steady mantra of "oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god" running through his head, determined that he was never going to play another game of hockey. Ever.

_(GASP! The plot thickens! Sorry for no actual hockey action, but I just wanted the story to twist a lil. Hope you guys liked the chapter! Reviews are love! Ciao~)_


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